White Privileged, Even In Death

When I went missing, the cops came to investigate within

two hours

of my disappearance.

When she went missing, it took them

two weeks

to take her disappearance seriously.

When I went missing, investigators

asked questions.

“Who did she hang out with? Where did you last see her? When was the last time you spoke?”

When she went missing, they

made assumptions.

“She probably just ran away. She’s most likely with her boyfriend. She’ll come back, just wait.”

When I went missing, there were

dozens of news stories

airing constantly, updating the public and begging for anyone with information to come clean.

When she went missing, there was

silence.

Just her family, pleading on social media for the public, officials, anyone to take it seriously.

When I went missing, the minutiae of my life were pored over

countless times,

breadcrumbs read and reread.

When she went missing, cops took her mother’s statement

once,

then put it in some file they haven’t looked at since.

When I went missing, investigators vowed to do

“everything in their power”

to bring me home and to bring “whoever did this” to justice.

When she went missing, investigators sighed and said there was

“nothing they could do”

given the lack of evidence (evidence that was lacking because no one bothered to look for any).

When the news broke that I had been found, deceased,

strangers wept.

Someone set up a foundation for me and there are talks of signing “My Law” into existence.

When she was found, deceased, only her family wept.

No one else knew.

No one told her story except for her friends and family, but not many people seemed to listen.

They caught the man that killed me, within

three weeks

of my disappearance. My family says they have been given closure.

They never caught the man that killed her. It has been

six years.

In that time, he has killed ten more women. Her family has no closure. Nor do any of the others.

When we went missing, it ripped a

gaping hole

in the lives of all our loved ones.

She, and her family, deserve the care, concern, and dedication that my family and I received.

But she didn’t get it.